Author's Note: Did you know that today, three years ago, I became a part of this community and posted the chapter of my very first story here? Well, it's true. I can't quite believe the journey that I have been on, but I'm far too glad for it! Anyway, enough of the nostalgia, thank you to the immense amount of reviews, favourites, and follows that I have received. I was shocked about it, and I can't thank you all enough for doing those tiny little favours for me! I can't do much to return the awesome favour other than to continue writing this story.

"It takes a huge effort to free yourself from memory."

~Paulo Coelho~

24

Two: Scars

There's an unsettling silence that befalls the area as a sea of eyes flood in my direction. I have seen this moment happen to me in my dreams and constantly as a nagging thought at the back of my mind, and every time it is different and ranges in brutality; from mere arrests to attacks far too bloody to even think about. For some reason, I find that Aryll's reaction (or lack thereof) is the one thing that damages me the most every time. While she may have acted like this for the past two years, the feeling of dread that I feel from the look in her eyes washes through my body at this exact moment.

Every time that I saw this moment in my mind, whether it be tied up inside of my brain or lost in a torrent of nightmares, I never expected it to be here. I, stupidly, never expected this moment to occur in such a way. In Telma's, I had always expected it to bar anything from happening to me or anyone around me, my friends with me as an extra form as protection. And look where I am now, stuck in the exact same place that I thought was a land of protect surrounded by the friends that I used as human shields selfishly in order to "evade" those searching for me.

Strangely enough, I should have thought that they would have given up by now. But this is Ganondorf's country, and it's not like his policies surround "giving up", now, do they?

I open my mouth to speak to say something, but my voice dies as soon as it even begins to work its way up my throat. I can feel the eyes of everyone staring at me intently, and I'm struggling to cope with it. I can imagine voices sneering for me to "man up", but I don't think you can when you literally stare death in the face. I don't even want to think about what my punishment will be. Viscen continues to watch me with the same calculating gaze that he held when I used to be in the Army, one that withers your very Soul.

My throat dries, yet another voice steps up onto the platform before I can even try to work my voice into action. "I think ya got the wrong kid." Telma's voice explains from behind. I turn my look away from the Captain and towards the woman behind me, only she's too busy staring down Viscen with her own withering glance. Her eyes meet mine for a fraction for a second, and I silently plead for her to leave this situation. She doesn't understand just exactly what she's saying, and I don't want her to be defending someone like me who clearing doesn't need such mercy and gratitude.

I can't stand it.

As return to gaze to Viscen, he continues to watch me intently with his mocking gaze. "No." He says simply, continuing to watch me. "I don't believe that I do." He snaps his head back up to Telma, the other guards moving around to block the exit and separate the crowd out from around me. "Look, I don't want any trouble from you, lady, all I want is my criminal and we can part ways." He grabs my arm roughly, jerking me away from the bar tender's side, nodding curtly. "Evening."

My mind is a blur of questions and shock that I can't process much of what they are saying. I spin back around to Telma, and I can see my panicked expression in the reflection of her golden eyes. I can see her heart melting as she looks at me, leaving me perplexed as Viscen shouts something to the other two guards. Why would she feel pity for me? What have I done that leaves her believing that I am solely everything but a lost cause?

I am thrown head first back into reality when Telma's hand grabs my arm as the Captain attempts to bind my wrists together.

My gaze flickers up to the bar tender, who bores her eyes into Viscen's complexion as he returns the gesture with a calm, even look. In the distance, there's a small ruckus between drunks that is too quiet for me to pick up. Between casting my eyes between Telma and Viscen, their iron grips on either of my arms just as tight as each other, I find my friends in the crowd.

Through their drunken stupor, the glazed eyes of Midna and Darunia seem to be just as perplexed as part of my brain feels, while others like Ravio and Colin are legitimately scared for me. I can't find Navi through the group, though I assume that she feels the same way. I have gained enough of their trust to feel safe around them, but what good of a friend am I if I can't even be up front with my own past that now bites harder than ever?

"This boy is innocent in every sense of the word." Telma says sternly, despite Viscen's deep scoff at the dubbing of "innocent". If my voice wasn't so dead, I would agree with him; I am far from what that word ever is. "He left because his family needed him, as they could no longer be sustained, and I was with that family when it happened. You only use the word "desert" to punish those who don't need it." I listen to Telma's words attentively, questioning how she is managing to hold her ground without being arrested herself. "You aren't hurting him more than the Army all ready has."

It wasn't the Army that "hurt" me...

A pregnant silence befalls the area, my stomach twisting uncomfortably around my insides. As I exchange glances between the two of them, the murmurs of the crowd inside the tavern grow ever so slightly in volume. This creates a shift in the guards, and they move around the group in unison to silently quiet them as the Captain makes his decision on how to move his pieces in this game; making sure that he plays it right. Telma's withering gaze aids this, though it mainly makes me feel even worse to have someone protecting me like this.

And, one by one, events slowly begin to crescendo into a torrent.

Still lost in her drunken world filled with dazed thoughts, Midna throws herself in my direction and latches herself onto my shoulder, desperate to not let me go. It seems that everyone else but me has found their voice, because she cries out in a slur: "Y-You can't do this." She tightens her grip around my shoulder, probably for support. "He's done nothing wrong! S-Sheik isn't like that..." In some situations when Midna has had ten too many, especially when she leans against me like she does now, I would feel rather bemused, but this isn't any normal situation.

"Darn right he hasn't!" Darunia suddenly appears at my other side, clapping a hand onto my back roughly. He is far more coherent when he's drunk compared to people like Midna, but it's difficult to decide how much and little he has drunk due to how happy he constantly is.

Something burns deep inside of me, though it's too subtle at first for me to recognise it. The sounds surrounding me grow in volume, and intensity, causing my heart beat to sound in my brain. In the distance, I can hear the tiny voices of Ravio and Colin backing up my defence; which, in turn, only continues to irritate the Captain. His grasp on my arm curls up further, starting to make it a little numb from the strength of his grip. The burning continues to spread with its diseased flames, and my focus on what is happening around me.

The next time that I blink, I am no longer in Telma's bar but in a small refugee camp that we had been sent out to investigate on one of my last missions; not that I knew that at the time. The camp was nestled into the mountain range linking the North to the East, filled mostly with Hylians and Sheikah that had lost homes that were never to be repaired where they once lived, or simply couldn't afford the accommodation that they ever so desperately needed. The camp held at least two hundred and fifty occupants, though it seemed that it was growing by the day.

Even though I was commander for the sub-unit of around fifty soldiers, I took the time to help those who needed it. While our Captain had not given direct orders to myself other than to investigate the situation, helping those who physically needed it was my own priority. The stench was horrid, the pile up of bodies scattered across the site almost unbearable. I kept telling myself that it was the duty of the Army to protect those people, therefore it was easy to manage the sickness growing in my stomach, even if I was soon proven wrong.

Many members of my sub-unit began shooting wildly, murdering many of the innocent refugees without hesitation. I had attempted to stop them, but there were too many of them screaming and shooting madly. Any soldiers who were left with me were hurriedly trying to protect the refugees, yet a lot of them swapped over as well, dubbing the innocents "traitors to the President" and "scum of society". I had also tried my best to protect those who needed it, my resolve unwavering despite how insane my unit had become so suddenly.

I still have a scar from where one of them shot at my shoulder.

But that isn't what has set this off. Not the fact that the idea of the shooting became apparent when a last minute order swooped in without my consent. What has so suddenly set this off is the closeness of everyone around me suddenly, clawing at my body to make sure that I stay exactly where I am, much like it had been back then. Those refugees had clung to me and willed that I protect them, and all of this has bought that moment back. I don't even want to know how many died that day.

"I thought that you were supposed to protect us, not kill us!"

"Please, ignore me and protect my child. She's just a new born, see!"

"Save us! You have been sent to us by the Three. For the love of the holy Sisters, save us!"

"I-I don't want to die..."

I rapidly close and reopen my eyes again, the camp and Telma's tavern flickering between each other as I do so. I'm struggling to understand what is the same and what is the past, something that I thought I had once fully known. As the world passes by around me, the constant switching between times and locations is making me feel light headed. These moments have been constant, though I had believed that they were finally dying down after the first seven or eight months after I had came to Skyloft City.

I can no longer take it.

"Stop! Please!" I cry, though it sounds far more like a desperate plea than anything close to a demand. In a fraction of a second, the riot like atmosphere has been extinguished, and I realise just exactly how close everyone is. The stink of alcohol is bugging me too, fanning against my face almost as much to cut through the tension that I have just created through my shout. A sea of eyes wash over to meet mine, and I suddenly feel very small and very alone. My friends still hold me tightly, Viscen doing the same almost as much, and I feel a spark of calm course through me when I hear a gentle voice.

"It's always hard to gather the courage necessary in some situations." My father had told me once on a Spring eve, his voice like a saint as I remember how he had watched out as the water lapped against the soft golden sands beneath our feet. He had said it a few years before he passed away, and I can still feel his loving embrace as he held me close on the shore. "But you will find that in those moments of weakness that you have, it's always waiting there for you."

I close my eyes, delving deep into the core of the fragmented memory torn apart by conflict and a desperate desire to be loved like I was back then. As the memory slowly cracks and is lost to my distorted mind, I imagine that tiny flame that he spoke about swaying back and forth. It isn't a real flame, obviously, but I can feel its heat of adrenaline and courage whenever I need it. In most occasions when I need it, I cannot find it easily, but this time it's almost like I can feel him helping me – aiding me when the time is right.

It's time...

I slowly raise my head, taking in the crowd around me, the warmth of calm and adrenaline numbing my entire body as I twist my neck around so that I stare Captain Viscen in the face; all feelings of regret, sorrow, and lingering fear gliding off of my train of thoughts without hesitation. "I will go with you." There's a startled murmur across the crowd, many of my friends increasing their hold on me. "I don't know what is going on, but we can straighten this mess out elsewhere. Let these people enjoy their evenings, for it doesn't concern them." I pause, boring straight into his. "Leave them be."

"Sheik, no!" A shrill voice literally screams from off to the side, and someone has grabbed onto my waist without so much of a warning other than their cry. I arc my body around unnaturally in order to see who the person is, and I discover none other but Navi herself wrapping her arms around me, shaking rather violently. "You can't leave! You can't leave!" I reach my hand down as far as the others holding it will allow, and I hold her white knuckled hand softly. Her breath hitches, though her grip doesn't falter.

Clenching my teeth, I gingerly push her away from me despite her tiny protests. "Too late." Remarks a snide voice from my side, and Viscen suddenly tugs me away from my friends until their grip on me is slackened enough so that I can be pulled free effortlessly.

They bark their protests immediately, but the guards in the room suddenly draw their guns and raise them towards the crowd in a callous attempt to quieten them. While most of the drunks, the miners who actually like me included, reluctantly back down; knowing that it isn't worth it, something that I would greatly agree with. My friends, however, are either unaware of this or too caught up to care as they continue on – even when Telma and the other people in the tavern hold them back. "No!" I yell, eyes wide at the idea of my friends being shot down. "Leave them alone!"

"Too late." Viscen repeats roughly into my ear, jarring my senses as he swings the door open. Kicking the door to keep it in place, he uses his free arm to hold me close to him (flashes of my father doing the same jolting me once before going still) and drags me away. I barely notice the guards outside that have surrounded the area, only about five or so, in case anything happened, but I am far too out of it to register it properly. The two guards in the tavern rush at my friends as the door slams shut, and my last fearful sight of my once friends sends the adrenaline scurrying away.

I cringe at the sound of gunshots.

The Captain throws me into the chair that sat awkwardly against the table in the kitchen. I land harshly against it, my binds around my wrists not helping my balance whatsoever. For some reason that still remains unknown for me, the guards decided that the best place to question me is my own home. And, in all honesty, I wouldn't blame them, as the stations in Skyloft City aren't anywhere near good enough to hold "criminals" and no one uses them anyway. Still, Aryll isn't home either, so it's silent enough to do the same job as any other station would.

"Find the stolen good too." Viscen snaps at the three guards that have the wonderful job of watching over the next space of time. "Turn this place upside down if you have to. I want all the evidence against him!" He drives his gloved fist into the table on the word "down", yet no one flinches as I try to set myself upright without the use of my arms. I freeze at his words, staring into the voids of his dark eyes as he grins at me darkly. "What? Scared you're going to be caught. You're late for that, Mesa. Far too late..."

A chill runs through me as the guards leave to search for the stone. His tone of hatred always had the power to make me feel weaker than I actually can be.

Before I had left to stalk the night until I made the mistake of going to Telma's, the box which held the gemstone in that I had mined this morning was locked under the floor in my room, almost like fate as it's now left for the taking of the guards who rush upstairs and through the minute amount of rooms here. They're going to find it, but I can't even think about that before Viscen is in my face, determined to figure me out.

My stomach jerks violently, that flame of courage left for embers a long time ago. Just when I need it too; happens every time. "I'm not afraid of you." I comment stonily. In all honesty, it's not a lie. I'm not scared of Viscen or the Army, nor what they try to throw at my to attempt to scare me. There are a few things that chill me, but just not him.

The Captain grins as the guards upstairs break down the doors leading into the few rooms of the building that Aryll and I share. He pulls away from my face with a light laugh, clenching his fists. "I don't think you realise just how many soldiers have said that to me, and I've still found a way to make them eat their bitter words. It may not be myself that leaves you like the pale faced recruits, but I know all of your secrets and fears before you know them yourself."

"You know nothing about me."

He grins darkly at me. "I know how your sisters detests your black heart, I know that your parents cared nothing for you because of their sweet little daughter, I know that your friends are still unwilling to trust you no matter what stunts they pull to protect you, and most of all..." His eyes glitter with malevolence. "And I know everything about that whore of a girl you lost."

"Shut up." I grunt, uncaring for whether he has me right where he wants me or not. He has no right to talk about any of them in the way that he has, and I won't stand for it, not when I'm right here listening to his foul language. "You think you can break me by making me think that you know everything?" I scoff. "I don't think you realise that I'm not that helpless kid in the Army any more, and you're even more of a bastard than you were when I left. Anyone can be broken, but I'm not losing to you. The Three will strike me down themselves before that can happen."

His voids glow with a sudden burst of anger than he cannot contain, but something stops him before he can throw me from my seat like I expect him to. Like the unpredictable man that I know, he holds himself back from lunging forwards at me, something that I can't decipher properly. I raise a brow, straightening in my seat and ready myself to respond. We stare at each other, stunned at each other's actions, attempting to figure out each other. What we are trying to understand, I don't think I'll ever know, but this study session is abruptly cut off by the sounds of guards leaping down the unstable set of stairs behind Viscen.

"Sir!" The first addresses in a gruff voice. "We have found the stolen goods from the Mines. Left in an obvious place on the upper floors." From this, I don't think that I recall just how bad many soldiers in the Army could actually be. While the first guard holds up the gemstone that Darunia had shoved into my pocket in the Mines (not pushing the blame onto him, of course, since he's done more than enough for me that I could never return), the second guard holds the small wooden box that I had hidden away from sight.

And the worse thing is, the worked open box has the Pictographs that were left on the floor back inside; the ones that I didn't permit anyone else to see.

Viscen snatches the stone from the guard's gloved palm, calling for the third guard to return to the main room of the building. My breath hitches for a singular moment, only because the Pictographs are for all to see, and I have a twisting sensation that build up; the tiny voice at the back of my mind screaming that they are going to do something horrid to them without any form of hesitation whatsoever. I swallow thickly, silently begging that the Sisters are on my side today like they never are.

They're all that I have left of her.

The Captain studies the gemstone in his hand, still ever so slightly dusty from the work down in the depths of the Mine. I stare at the stone too, knowing that the evidence against me will no doubtlessly come with some form of punishment. If it isn't by capital punishment, then I'll at least face some form of pain from stealing goods from the Mines, and that's only if they don't manage to prove that I deserted the Army two years ago.

I am completely unaware of my voice until I suddenly blurt out: "Why are you even trying to punish me for something that isn't even technically classed overall as "traitorous". Wouldn't you much rather go after the murderers or rebels?"

"Watch your tone, scum." Snaps one of the guards, the one who was relieved from searching the downstairs portion of the building. "You don't have a right to speak unless you are asked to." It takes almost all of my will not to return with some form of retort, knowing that my situation is all ready bad enough.

"Still your tongue, Keatons." Viscen growls, finally pocketing the gemstone in his pocket. I resist the urge to pass him a smug grin as the Captain continues. "We're not done here yet. There's just one more thing left that we need from here, other than a confession." Viscen shuffles around the table so that he is behind me, and I tense up so that I don't move if he decides that sudden physical contact will cause me to flinch or jump in shock. "To reveal this identity masquerade for all that it is." He tugs down the top of my shirt, revealing what I have kept hidden for as long as I could from my "friends".

The tattoo that the Army engraved into the back of my left shoulder, given when I first signed up, consisting of my real name and soldier number.

"Maybe it's a good thing that you could never discard these." Viscen beams in triumph as he releases my shirt, strutting back around the edge of the table and taking the seat opposite me without even asking for it; the power that he demands handed to him on a damn silver tray. "So, Mesa." He purrs. "It seems that the odds are completely against you. Are you still willing to defy what we have proved you to be: a traitorous scum of society who is loved by no one, not even the Three themselves?"

I grind my teeth, forcing myself to speak through gritted teeth. "We apparently share some common ground, then, huh?"

The guards, who have circled themselves around the room, take a flying step forwards. Viscen, however, holds his hand up to stop them, watching me intently. "You're not only a thief, but also a deserter, and both have been proved." He continues, ignoring my comment. "You're never going to see this "home" again, Mesa, not your family, not those so-called friends of yours, none of it. I'll make sure that you rot away, or better yet..." His devious smile twitches up into a smirk that only suits him. "I'll get you sent to Insidiae so I can watch you burn away like you should have been two years ago."

I take a deep breath, taking the time to understand my situation. They don't have enough evidence to call me a thief, excluding the metal that he'll twist in a way to prove that I stole it, but they have more than enough evidence to show that I deserted the Army without any form of deathly injury that would allow me to leave, and then have been on the run from them instead of owning up and facing the punishment "like a true man".

If Viscen is right, and he'll die making sure that he is, then I'll be greatly punished for at least deserting the Army; and I don't think being beaten senseless and then banished to die in another country is the more plesant way to go out. Neither is not dying and then living out the rest of your shameful life away from everything that you love, unable to attain a job, home, or anything remotely close to it either, I suppose.

Or, if what the Captain is determined to attain from all of this, then nothing but the Insidiae Games await for me to heed its calling. I had watched it once with Grandma when I was little, my parents away on business, though she had soon sent me to bed when the bloodbaths began. However, I remember hiding around the door frame and watched alone as it continued on. I was scolded by Grandma when she caught me, but it soon became apparent that it was my curiosity that landed me in nightmares for an entire week, and she didn't punish me like she would have normally done.

After that, Aryll had cuddled close to me when we watched it again while in care. She was old enough to understand it, older than me when I had first seen them, yet she still had nightmares. I have watched it alone since then. It wasn't an obligatory sport to watch, but now the President has made the Games compulsory to watch; even if I had forced Aryll to never watch such a horror of unspeakable levels ever again. She'll defy it, of course, though she's afraid of them enough to not to watch enough of them.

I know her that much at the very least.

I sigh deeply, rolling my shoulder in a tight circle to wear away the cramp that brushes against the muscles there. "Well, if it's a confession that you want, then you're going to have to wait. I need answers first." If Viscen had any more anger to splurge, then I'm sure that it would be physically aimed at my face. And yet, his eyes twinkle in the light that flickers dully above us, something deep in those glints that I don't quite understand at first.

His eyes scan the ever so slightly irritated guards, blocking them out before leaning in closer. "Go ahead." He permits with a smirk. "Though I think we all know what your question is, correct?" He rears back against the weak chair, and I pray at the back of my mind that it snaps in two completely. In seconds, although, I have brushed the rather entertaining thought from my mind to focus on the task at hand.

"I'll ask again: why are you even coming after me after a crime that was committed almost two years ago? Shouldn't you be going after the murderers and whatnot?" I shift my weight, staring him straight in the eyes. "Why me?"

He rolls his eyes. "I should have suspected that you wouldn't know." He grumbles under his breath, and I am drawn in. "Out of my entire squadron, you were one of my Elite, though that let you fall underneath my radar in a way." Elite? A pang of guilt courses through me, but it is washed away when he continues, and I realise just exactly who he is. "I trained you up with the others who had the most potential to be the best of the best, but then you just slipped away as if none of that mattered."

I stop breathing. "What?"

"I would have been upset, but I wasn't going to being bested by the likes of you. You may have been regarded highly by myself, but I wasn't letting you get away. If one of the highest slipped away without being punished, then what would that do to the rest, huh? Wouldn't they get the same right?" He laughs mockingly. "But it seems even the "best" can fall."

I think on his words for a while. With many of the soldiers that I had the honour of befriending, many had spoken negatively about Captain Viscen, and that continued on when we we under his command and we were the group that he isolated the most. He would pull us back for extra sessions, pushing us even after we were ready to pass out. We all looked like death warmed up at the rollcalls, barely left to get any sleep from everything that Viscen forced into doing. However, to think that he was trying to push us was obvious and not at the same time. We had been oblivious to that, and I can find some form of understanding of him now that I think deeper into it.

I am still defiant, despite understanding him in a different way, and he is still as angry as before. The other soldiers would believe that if I had left without being pulled back, then they would be able to as well, and I wouldn't blame them. But Viscen couldn't allow that, and I had to go back, or be punished. Then, and only then, would those who knew about my deserting would realise that what I did was wrong and cannot be replicated. After that, things would return to its usual selves, leaving the Army in a far worse state than it was before; something that I would hate to still be a part of.

If I had the choice, I would never go back. I would rather face a worse punishment than returning there. And, it seems, that it may happen.

All form of understanding that I once felt fades as soon as I feel it.

"So if you cared about our group as a whole, then you would want to kill me in order to regain the power that you thought you had over me?" I question seriously, catching him off guard for a singular moment. "You think that by trying to guilt trip me into a confession is your idea of domination? You've grown soft, Viscen. We all knew, y'know. We all knew that you had your favourites, but we knew that you'd cave one day, and that was when we could run. I left for my family, but that meant that I had defied you in a way that you never wanted." I lean forwards. "How long after did the rest leave? Three months? Four?"

His eyes narrow, and he struggles to keep my gaze. "Two and a half months."

"Exactly. You allowed your "Elite" to slip away, and how many have you found?" I shake my head at his lack of response. "They all scampered to other countries before you could shoot them down, and there's no way that you could arrest them when they aren't even in this country. How suspicious did you get when more and more began to become "missing in action"? When your best began to decrease one by one?" I lean back in my chair. "Yes, I deserted the Army, and I did steal from me Mines, but let me tell you this: you may have me, Viscen, but there's no way in Hell that you've got power over any of us."

The way he held back before is gone, and he's on me before I can even think to breathe.

Shooting from his chair, he knocks me clean from my chair and onto the ground. Curling his hand up into a fist, I take more than one blow to the head and face. I feel more than one of these strike my nose, cringing at the cracking sounds elicited from it. I scrunch my eyes shut. I was expecting some form of reaction from him, but the speed in which he moves is more than jolting. The flurry of attacks stun me every time, and I lack the ability to move properly, so all I can do is take the hits and hope that they stop soon.

And, thanks be to Nayru, the guards throw Viscen away from me before I can fall out of consciousness; leaving me on the floor in a bloody mess. The Captain is ready to go at me again, but his eyes fall onto something out of my line of sight that I can't see. I can barely see Viscen's smirk of malevolence twist upward into a grin that chills me down to the bone. "Burn it!" He almost screams, sending my stomach caving inward at his audacity. "For the love of the Goddesses, burn it you fool!"

I come to realise things far too late.

I try to work myself back onto my feet despite the pain that courses through my head, the sticky red substance that I have grown extremely used to running across my broken complexion, but I get far from it. However, I pause in my attempts to assess this plight, a blur of uniforms cross over me without a care in the world. I blink rapidly, determined to not let my decreasing vision fail me now. When my vision slowly begins to clear, it also becomes clear just exactly what was told to be burnt away; my stomach drops.

The box. The box with a shard of my past that was happy in some way, shape, or form, and one that holds the last ties to her.

"No!" I howl, reaching out towards the fire behind me to try and stop them in some way with my foot, but it's far too late. One of the other guards have plucked one of the matches from beside the fire and struck its flame, dunking it against the firewood and stepping back when the spark created forms an explosion of flames. I force myself onto my knees and try to knock the guard with the box away, however it's a clumsy attempt and brushed off effortlessly, the box thrown without a care into the fire and left to fuel the flames that they created.

Stuck on my knees, I stare into the glowing golden flames as they lick against the pieces of paper, our faces burning into nothing but ashes. Every carving, Pictograph, letter, secret is gone, left to sit at the bottom of the fire. The memories may still remain in my head, but what will I do when I forget them? If I ever become old, what will happen to them when I slowly begin to forget everything that I once held dear? I was the only one who sat under the stars and kissed her, the only one who made it through the darker days because of her.

Aryll may remember her, and my friends do too, but they didn't care for her in a way that I did.

Through my heartbreak, something speaks out to me.

"Just remember why you're doing this, Mesa." Kafei, a close friend of mine in the Army, had once said to me. "Aryll's waiting for you, no matter how she feels about you, so the rest can be sorted later. Run for Aryll, fight for Aryll. Nothing else matters, not even us. We'll find our own way out, but you've got someone to run for now. Someone to fight for." I see her face in the flames, the embers. I see Zelda's, but I can see Aryll's too. They're both wanting me to do something, to show them that I can be the person that they expect me to be.

There's only one plan that I can formulate through this pain and fearful mind set. There's only so much that I can do before they use more force than Viscen just did, and none of them include escaping back to my friends or to Aryll. There are too many guards here and some outside too making their walks around the perimeter of the City before changing shifts. I don't know when they change shifts, since they alter all the time so that no one can replicate them properly, and that is my only weakness right now. "What's the matter, Mesa? Finally realised that you're doomed no matter what crap comes out your mouth?"

I don't answer. I lower my head and close my eyes for a moment. Mom, Dad, Grandma. I'm sorry for shaming you. I just wanted to help Aryll, that's all, I swear...

When I finally raise my head, I can feel the sheer fiery hatred that burn into my irises. "All I know is that I'm going with you no matter what I do." I say in a tone that unnerves me. It's deep and unstable, something that I'm not sure whether it suits me or not. I push myself awkwardly onto my feet, staring Viscen down with all the courage that I can muster. "But you shouldn't expect me to go quietly, because I'm not going to whatever you say. Whatever power you think you have over me, over us, isn't real. I may have no choice but to go with you, but I'm not leaving without saying goodbye."

I take one final breath, send one final prayer to the Three, and move.

The guards, including Viscen, jump at me once they realise just exactly what I am about to do. However, they believe that I am trying to escape from the building, though I'm not stupid enough to do that. Because of this, the guards automatically fly towards the doors, which buys me enough time to jump into the air and tuck my knees up, throwing them backwards so that I end up with my arms not in front of me instead of behind. They all, in unison, grow extremely confused all of a sudden. I don't lay a finger on them, going for another part of the building entirely.

I reach down for a small device on the side table beside the fireplace, the one thing that will secure my resolve: a recording device. She uses it in her technology class, and I know that she uses it a lot and check up on it every now and again in case she needs to record something for her lessons. Throwing myself against the side board, I immediately search for the button and near punch it when I find it on the side. The guards, soon coming to realise what I am attempting to do, rush forwards in alarm, and I have very little time to spare.

"I'm sorry, Aryll, more than anything. I can't say how much I love you, and—" I am grabbed from behind and pulled away before I can say any more. I struggle furiously in their grasp, but they're far stronger and haven't all ready been beaten down by their Captain, but I soldier on; ironically. While the two guards hold me, I note the third one shifting around behind us out of the corner of my eye, and an unfamiliar pricking sensation at the back of my neck follows moments later. My eyes widen from shock, and a strange weight pushes my body down towards the ground. I try to fight against it, but it's far too late.

Tranquilliser darts are too strong.

As darkness eats hungrily against my vision, my eyes watch as Viscen kneels down towards the recorder that has somehow made it onto the floor in the struggle. He speaks straight into the device, but things sound far too underwater for me to even hear what he says, though it doesn't last long. As long as Aryll somehow manages to hear what I had to say, then there's nothing else that I can physically do. I let my body numb, my fight pointless and futile. Whatever happens to me doesn't compare to what may happen to her. Even if I can protect her from a distance, then that's all that matters.

Viscen's eyes gleam with triumph, and I black out as they pull me away, the blinking of the recorder left on the ground for all to see.

~Interlude~

Aryll Mesa slipped quietly into the building that she would forever refuse to call "home". The cold chill of Skyloft faded away as she stepped inside, the heat of the building flooding into her sensory system immediately, something that was strange enough as it seemed. As the sun set behind her, the thin wooden door creaked shut. She had only just returned from school, holding herself back due to revision purposes and to improve her work in general. In the back of her mind, it was also to stay away from the building she resided in, but that was an entire other matter for a time that was not suited for then.

She dropped her bag instantly, one that literally weighed tonnes due to the immense amount of work that she pushed onto herself, carting herself straight towards the steps and up to her room. Aryll did not even cast a singular glance towards the main part of the building, caring none for whether her brother was home or not. In most purposes, she would have been greeted by a futile attempt of making idle conversation from him, though there was no sound in the entire building whatsoever; almost like nothing dared to move other than Aryll.

A subtle pang of pain over the lack of her brother's voice shot through her heart, only to be masked like it usually would moments later.

Knocking the door to her room open, she strolled inside without a care in the world. Her room was barren and desolate, the only coverings there school and future related. All of her achievements were splattered across the walls, proving how independent (and isolating) she was as a person, and all of those would serve as an extremely useful purpose in the future. Not long after her and her brother had settled there, she had planned to bolt when she was old enough, not being able to stand being in the presence of a life that she did not want.

She stopped, however, when she noticed several things at once. Firstly, her room had been completely torn apart, that was the main thing that was too obvious to miss. Everything from the walls were on the floor, the items from underneath her bed were thrown about the room, all things atop her shelves were shattered on the ground, her bed torn apart and left for nothing. Her brother, no matter how large his emotional range was, would never do such a thing to his sister; and she knew that, no matter how much she wanted to admit that she knew him.

But that begged one question: who did do it?

She also realised the manner in which her personal items were sprawled across the flooring. To her, it seemed as though whoever committed such an act was searching fervently for something in particular, but it wasn't in her room. The sight of her torn up room also looked as if those who went through every single thing that she held on her were acting frantically, as if they had to find whatever they needed to as fast as they were physically able to. Thefts were not unusual in a place like Skyloft City, yet there were never so violent, so personal.

An instinct deep inside of her was suddenly screaming at the summit of its tone, begging for her to run to safety. Telma had always promised that her place above the tavern would always have a safe room for her, and it seemed almost wrong to deny such an offer after such an attack. No matter what happened between her and her life, including her brother, she always knew that Telma's was a place of safety; especially when her sibling wasn't there for when she needed him, no matter what time it was throughout her life.

Breaking free from the outset of her shock, Aryll forced herself from her room and returning to the landing. Peering into her brother's room despite what her opinion was of him, her lips parted in further fear as she saw nothing but a wasteland even worse than her room was. His room was a sheer reflection of her own, except for the achievements and personal items, though even shards of walling and floor boards had been ripped free from their bindings to the building itself.

She threw herself back down the steps, the idea of Telma's safe haven almost too much for her. She had been coddled from events like these, though she knew that she had to find somewhere safe no matter whether the robbers returned to the building or not. As her feet connected with each step, they became weaker and weaker until her immaculate shoes collided with the floor once again. Aryll was far too close to leaving before her sea blue eyes widened in shock, scolding herself for not realising what had happened by not looking upon the main room of the building straight away.

The main table was cracked in several places, the two chairs surrounding it thrown to the ground. The fireplace was still alight, though covered in embers, giving Aryll the reasoning for why the building was warm for the first time in a while once winter had passed. The room had also been turned upside down, drawers and items tossed away like children's toys. However, something caught the young woman's eyes that drew her towards the fire in particular. Firstly, no one stealing would light the fire as they left.

But there was something else entirely.

Deep in the flames was many items that fanned the glowing embers still. Aryll knelt down before the fireplace, shoulders slumping forwards as she took in what it was. The main item seemed to be a large wooden box, although it lacked most qualities of them at that point, one that the carvings across the wood's surface were covered in most of the flames; highlighting scratched names and designs that were somewhat familiar to her. The other items were Pictographs.

Many of the faces had been burnt away by the flames, however there was one last scrap of paper that had fallen onto the hearth of the fireplace.

It was a coloured Pictograph of her brother and Zelda, a girl that Aryll knew quite well. They were grinning, something that Aryll thought to be a foreign design upon her brother's complexion, but there it was. They seemed to be atop one of the knolls surrounding the edge of Skyloft City, the two of them managing to sneak away towards one of their secret spots that no one else knew about but Aryll. The flames had licked against the image so much that much of Zelda's face had been burnt away, leaving her brother there alone; much like he had been left a few months after the Pictograph had been taken.

As Aryll took in the image in her hands, cool and crisp against her skin, a blinking off to her right suddenly grabbed her attention. She blinked a few times, casting her gaze over to her recorder that lay on the floor, a red light flashingto indicate that there was a recording on there that had not been played back yet. Aryll thought back to her assignments, only to find none that hadn't been played back whatsoever. Tilting her head, she placed the Pictograph back against the hearth and reached out for the recorder on the ground.

The entire situation unnerving and uncomfortable, Aryll slowly pressed the button and listened intently as the recording was played back to her ears only. 'I'm sorry, Aryll, more than anything. I can't say how much I love you, and—' She was almost about to delete the recording instantly, but something stopped her. Other than the fact that her brother had stopped speaking to it himself, something in his tone concerned her; no, terrified her. There were very few times in which her brother had been scared, but it had not happened in many years.

There was a scuffle in the background that Aryll couldn't pick up very well, though the sound of the recorder being picked up suddenly filled the air, and a cool voice spoke instead. 'We don't need to raise any alarm, my dear, for we have everything covered.' He, she realised, spoke directly to her, sending even more chills down her spine. 'We know how much you despise you sibling and ignore his love for you, so now you won't have to go through the irritation of it ever again. He is going to pay for the pain that he has put you through, and I will see to that. Oh, and my dear...' There was a pause. 'Make sure to keep yourself updated with the news. I'm sure that it will be enlightening. Let's go.'

She dropped the recorder in shock as soon as the sounds faded away, staggering onto her feet and against the table. At the suddenness of her actions, she knocked the table enough to send the radio onto the ground. Still lost in shock and confusion, Aryll jumped out of her skin when the radio suddenly came on, voices crackled and distorted as they spoke in a high pitched manner across the room. Heart pounding against her chest, something sparked in the back of her mind. 'So, what do we know about our twenty third Traitor?' A voice filled with glee questioned.

Aryll froze up, blinking slowly as a wave of nausea came over her. 'All we know so far is that he is a deserter, a sinful act that no one should commit.' A grumble of agreement shot through the radio. Aryll continued to stare at the radio on the ground, all else around her fading away completely as she focused her attention onto the device, voices at the back of her mind screaming scenarios that linked everything together. The torn apart building, the lack of her brother's presence, the recording, and the voices on that radio frequency. 'He was caught a mere few hours ago. And, from his old Captain – Captain Viscen, for any who are apart of the Army – I was told that he goes by the name of Link Mesa.'

Despite her lack of affections for her brother on the surface, her love that still lingered inside caused Aryll Mesa to scream.